


Light My Fire

by LynGuerra



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Gang Violence, Implied Relationships, Original Character(s), Prostitution, Sexual Content, Violence, spiritual successor to my first fanfiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25798099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynGuerra/pseuds/LynGuerra
Summary: The difference between a lie and the truth, is that you must remember a lie but you don't have to remember the truth. When undercover, you have to build lie upon lie and keep up with them, but at some point it becomes blurred and you don't know what's the truth and what's a lie anymore. The thing is, when you roll with people long enough, you start to become them.- Special Agent Troy Bradshaw(Editing for early pacing issues, luckily it's only two chapters)
Relationships: Female Boss (Saints Row)/Troy Bradshaw, Troy Bradshaw/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Trojan Horse

**Author's Note:**

> This story is named after the song by The Doors. 
> 
> It's strange, but I was nervous to even post this chapter. I hope whoever reads it likes it.

A sheer haze of smoke filled the atmosphere of the dimly lit lounge. The few overhead lights that operated made sure to highlight the only two points of interest: the stage where two women danced to the instrumental that played at a low volume through the dusty speakers for drunken patrons with money to spend and the adjacent bar where Troy sat. His hand wrapped around his near-empty glass of whiskey. The ice cubes clanked against the glass as Troy brought the drink to his parted lips.

A cool breeze disrupted the haze within the lounge when the entrance was pushed open. The breeze carried the strong scent of cologne worn by the young man that leaned against the bar beside Troy. Troy drank the last of his whiskey and set the empty glass onto the bar. “Where’s Julius?”

“He sent me.” From the corner of his eye, Troy noticed the man stow his car keys into one of the pockets of his oversized denim jacket.

“I don’t care if he sent you, kid. I set up a meeting with Julius and that’s who I expected to see. Now, you can buy yourself a drink and relax or get the hell out of here, I don’t care which one you choose. All I know is, you’re not the one I’m going to be doing business with.” Troy said.

“Watch who you talk to like—”

“I’m doing your crew a favor. If you don’t like the way I handle business, fuck off and find someone else that’ll help you.”

Troy didn’t have to turn his head to know that he was being stared down. The feeling lasted for what felt like hours until Troy noticed the back of the young man’s denim jacket as he swaggered out of the lounge. Not long after, Troy decided it was his cue to leave as well. As soon as he stepped outside of the lounge, he was welcomed by the cool breeze that slowly picked up in speed.

He kept his hands warm inside of the pockets of his Harrington jacket as he walked down the bustling, littered sidewalks of Rebadeaux. Neon signs that depicted scantily clad women shone on nearly every block. The distance from the lounge to the apartment complex was a short distance.

The complex had seen better days. New layers of spray paint covered years of graffiti tagged on the concrete exterior of the four-story building. Stepping down the concrete steps that led to the entrance was a woman Troy had seen only a handful of times before. Her head was lowered, allowing her wispy bangs to fall in front of her face. Her dirtied minidress did little to hide her well-endowed figured, but also exposed her mercilessly to the impending storm that the dark clouds that covered the moon indicated. She didn’t say a word and neither did Troy as he jogged past her up the concrete steps.

He caught a whiff of the lingering earthy odor of marijuana when he entered the dilapidated lobby. Just like the exterior, the interior of the apartment complex was riddled with graffiti and littered with debris. The scent of marijuana barely masked the pungent musk that permanently resided within the building. There were two elevators in the lobby. Both were shut down and had yet to be repaired for the last five years, leaving no option but to take the staircase up.

Troy’s footsteps echoed with step he jogged up to reach the third floor. He made his way down the narrow hall. The walls were thin enough for him to hear a neighbors’ Rottweiler bark at the cries of another neighbor’s newborn.

Like all the other apartments in the complex, Troy’s apartment was compact, but the lack of décor made it appear more spacious than it was. Although there wasn’t a kitchen, the apartment still managed to house a small bathroom. The lamp he plugged in barely lit the room in comparison to how well the lights from the adjacent buildings from outside managed to illuminate the apartment. Troy stepped in front of the window. There wasn’t much of a view besides buildings and the alleyway that his apartment overlooked.

He pulled the blinds over the window and made his towards the small television he sat on top of the mini fridge that collected dust in the corner of the apartment. A faint buzz emitted from television’s speakers, but was quickly muffled by, news anchor, Jack Armstrong’s orotund voice when he appeared on the screen. He sat on the pullout sofa across from the television, his back hunched over as he retrieved his burner phone from his jacket pocket.

The phone only rang three times before the call was picked up. He smirked at the sound of Kim’s exhausted yawn on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry. I woke you up didn’t I?”

 _“I’m… I… honey, are you okay?”_ She mumbled, but Troy could still make sense of it.

“I’m fine...” Troy took a deep breath. “I’m fine. I just wanted to check on you, tell you I love you.”

_“I love you too. I’m sorry… I’m so tired, honey. I… I have work in the morning and…”_

“I know. Go back to sleep, okay.”

_“Okay. I love you.”_

* * *

It was a usual part of his routine to spend his days at the lounge. Troy leaned against the back entrance of the building’s brick exterior in the parking lot. One hand rested in the confines of his Harrington jacket’s pocket. The other retrieved his diminished cigarette from between his chapped lips that he lightly moistened with a single swipe of his tongue. He tossed the cigarette to the sidewalk where the remains of several other cigarette butts lied. He would’ve gone inside for a drink had the custom violet painted sports car not pulled into the parking lot. A vehicle like that stood out like a sore thumb amongst the four-door sedans and vans.

Troy watched as the car parked in the space directly in front of where he stood, but he couldn’t see who was inside due to the tinted windows. He waited until the door to the driver’s side swung open to reveal none other than Julius Little.

He walked with an effortlessly swagger yet had a commanding presence about him. The gold chains around his neck slightly swayed from left to right as he walked the short distance from his car to stand before Troy. He stood just below Troy, but the long trench coat he wore managed to accentuate his height to give the illusion that he was taller from afar.

“You’re the Middle-Man?” He held his gold ring adorned hand out for Troy to shake.

“Is that what they call me out here?” Troy muttered under his breath. “You can call me Troy.”

“Julius Little.” He introduced himself. “Though I’m sure you’re well aware.”

“You could say that.” Troy stowed his hand back inside of his pocket. “Been here for only a few weeks and I heard enough stories to feel like I’ve known you for years.”

“I hope you heard nothing but good things.”

“Sprinkled in-between things a little less holy, sure I heard good things.”

“Likewise. My boy, Dex, told me that you gave him a hard time last night.”

“I meant no disrespect to you for the way I treated the kid, but you have to understand that if I have a meeting with a specific individual, I’m expecting them not some kid.” Troy said.

Julius held his arms out. “Well I’m here now. Let’s take your car for a ride.”

“What, is yours out of gas?” Troy pushed himself from the wall and led Julius to his black destiny sedan that was in dire need of a wash.

“You got any smokes?” Julius asked once he and Troy were in the vehicle.

“Yeah, in the console.” Troy said. Julius opened the armrest console. The only pack of cigarettes Troy had left sat on top of junk he stored inside of the compartment, but Julius rustled through it as if he were looking for something else. “It should be at the top.”

“I got them.” Julius grabbed the pack and tapped it against his open palm for a cigarette to fall in his hand. He placed the cigarette between his lips and grabbed the lighter Troy had in the cupholder to spark a flame at the end of the cigarette.

“Where are we going?” Troy asked as he turned the key in the ignition.

“Drive. I’ll let you know when to stop.”

“Why don’t you just tell me where we’re going?” Troy asked, but didn’t receive an answer. “Fine.”

Save for the hum of the car’s engine, the drive was silent. Every so often Troy would glance over towards Julius only to see his gaze on the road ahead as if he were the one behind the wheel.

The downtown district of Stilwater was only a bridge away from Rebadeaux, but the difference between the districts could make someone feel like they entered an entirely new city altogether. Rather than neon signs that advertised sex, downtown boasted bright lights that enticed tourists to see a show, shop for items that they didn’t need, eat at upscale restaurants, amongst several other activities.

Troy pulled over to one of the less populated tourist destinations in downtown, the overlook with a view of four of the five major bridges of Stilwater. The only reason tourists would bother to visit the area was if they had a long wait for their train at the nearby station.

“I heard that you’re in the steel business.” Julius said as he and Troy stepped out of the car.

“Amongst other things, yeah.” Troy rubbed at his chin. “What do you need steel for?”

“Renovations.” Julius said.

“Yeah?” Troy raised his brows. “For your own house?”

“If it were that simple, I wouldn’t need you. I’m cleanin’ up the whole Row.”

“It’s about time someone did something about it.” Troy said.

“You’re from the Row?”

“I lived there when I was a kid, but I haven’t been in the Row for years. I just got back from California some months back. I forgot how goddamn cold it was out here.” Troy hunched his shoulders and rubbed his hands together. “Now, as far as the steel goes, my supply is pretty limited since I just got back here.”

“Whatever you have, I want to see. We’re having a service on Sunday. Come on down and you can show me when the service is over..”

“A church service?” Julius nodded his head to Troy’s question. “I don’t know, it’s not really my thing.”

“Afraid that God won’t forgive you for your sins?” Julius smiled and brought his hand onto Troy’s shoulder. “I’m fucking with you. Besides, it’s not like you have better things to do. You just got back into town, didn’t you?”

* * *

Splintered wood chipped from the staircase when Troy jogged up the few steps to reach the porch. Potted dead flowers were pushed to one side of the porch, leaving a trail of dirt and dust that stemmed from their former position besides the doormat. He pulled open the screen door and held it out in place with his foot while he unlocked the front door.

The home was small, but the lack of décor helped make the space feel bigger than it was. The entrance of the home housed the kitchen to the right and the living room to the left. The framed photographs that once decorated the living room walls were stacked in a cardboard box placed beside the television stand. Troy glanced from the mismatched curtains to the sofa where Kim lied. The television screen played a late-night news broadcast at a low volume.

“Are you redecorating?” Troy asked to no response as he stepped further into the living room. He couldn’t help but smile when he noticed that Kim’s eyes were closed. She lied her head on the arm of the sofa. Her soft breaths slightly blew the few loose strands of her blonde hair from her face.

The springs in the sofa squealed when Troy sat down beside Kim. He clasped his hands in-between his spread legs. He analyzed the room. Mismatched curtains of different lengths shielded the windows. He could’ve sworn there was a faux plant in the corner where a new bamboo corner shelf was situated and coming from the paint buckets next to the shelf, the ecru walls were soon to be mauve. It was the same but different, which was the last thing he wanted his home to be, but it was better for him to bite his tongue rather than start an unnecessary argument with his wife as she was waking up.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” She slowly raised her head from the arm of the couch and rubbed at her exhausted blue eyes that grew when she had a clearer view of his scruffy goatee and his short, jagged haircut. “You haven’t had that look since college.”

“You like it?” Troy rubbed his hand across his goatee.

She smiled and reached her hand out to stroke her finger through Troy’s hair. “I hate it now just as I did back then.”

“Is that why you took down our wedding pictures?”

Her gaze drifted from Troy and over to the empty wall where the photos once hung. “I couldn’t look at them anymore. It’s hard enough that I barely see you anymore, so… let’s not talk about that. Are you hungry?”

“No, I have food back at the apartment.”

“Why can’t you stay for dinner?”

“Honey, I…” Troy sighed. “Look, I have to write a report, get it sent in as soon as possible. I couldn’t wait ‘til the morning for the internet café to open.”

“You didn’t even over come to spend time with me.”

“Baby, I will. I… look at me.” Troy grabbed her arm before she could get up from the sofa. “Look at me, please.”

Kim rolled her eyes, but did as Troy plead. “I know that you’re doing your job, but I have no one here. I don’t have friends, family, no one here… only you.”

“I know.” Troy leaned closer to softly kiss Kim on her lips. “I’ll be here this weekend. I promise… I promise.”

* * *

With a pressed suit and a pair of oxfords, Troy fit in with the well-dressed elderly folks in the audience of the church service. It was held in one of the many abandoned warehouses in Mission Beach. It was stuffy, but the doors were kept open allowing the morning breeze to make the warehouse tolerable. Troy sat in-between two elderly women on metal chairs lined up to mimic pews. They fanned themselves with plastic foldable fans to keep their minimal makeup intact and hummed along to hymn sung by the choir. Almost everyone in the service was engrossed by the choir. If they didn’t sing or hum along in their seats, they stood up and swayed to rhythm.

The melodic vocals of the choir were little more than background noise to Troy. He studied the room. It was hard not to notice the amount the violet worn by the more than half of the people who attended the service. Some were more subtle in how they incorporated the hue in their outfit more than others, but the bottom line was that they were all representing as the Third Street Saints.

“How are you all doing?” It wasn’t until Troy heard the warehouse’s steel walls reverberate Julius’s deep voice.

The choir was replaced by Julius Little at the head of the service. It was culmination of his charisma, his commanding voice, the power he wielded as every movement of his body punctuated every word he spoke. Troy slightly shook his head. If he wasn’t forming a gang, Troy sure as hell thought Julius would make for the perfect cult leader.

“There are times…” Julius took a deep breath. “Times where I have felt that I have failed you, but my love for all of you has always kept me strong enough to continue to fight. Now, as you know, for many years I’ve fought with words. Words are powerful, but words, it seems, is not enough. Words have not stopped drugs from ravaging the lives of our mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters. Words have not been able to ease the fear of becoming a bystander caught in the crosshairs of a war we have not caused, yet our home is the battlefield. Others can sit and wait for the powder keg to go off, but we’re resilient. As the Good Shepherd said in John 10:18, “no one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord”. Let that sink in… no one can take my life from me, but I have the authority to sacrifice my life...”

The squeal of tires outside of the warehouse muffled Julius’s voice and the breeze carried the scent of burnt rubber into the building. Some of the people in the audience quickly glanced towards the exit door and returned their focus back to Julius, but before he could continue his sermon the blast of gunfire erupted outside of the warehouse.

“Get down! Get down!” Julius yelled out.

“Hey, c’mon… get down.” Troy said as calm as he could to the elderly women he helped to floor. He glanced up see Julius barked orders at his violet-clad men before beelining with a slightly hunch towards Troy’s direction.

“Stay down, okay. It’ll be alright.” Troy assured the women before he called out for Julius.

The pair hurried to the exit door of the warehouse, just as the gunfire ceased, each taking cover on either side of the open doorway. They both peered their heads out. Shell casings littered the ground along with fallen bodies of men who belonged to the Vice Kings. Blood flowed from the open wounds inflicted on their warm bodies and seeped onto the sidewalk and gravel. It was a drive-by, quick, clean, and the usual modus operandi of the Carnales Cartel.

“That steel you were going to show me, you got it?” Julius asked.

“Yeah, in the trunk of my car.” Troy answered.

“Alright.” Julius left his cover and stepped through the doorway and Troy quickly followed.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m cleaning up the Row. You can either help me or stay out of my way. What's it going to be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, I had a fanfiction titled, Everybody Wants to Rule the World. The story itself was outlandish and the characters were... something, that's truly the only way I can describe them. At some point I even began side-eyeing my protagonist, Lola, for various reasons that are too long to state here. Although I can point out the issues I had with it, I still love it because it was my first fanfiction and because those Resident Evil inspired chapters were so much fun to write. I never finished that story and always claimed that I would re-write it, but I could never do it.
> 
> I want thank Manfredd for inspiring me to write a new Saints Row story. I really hope you like it! I see this as a spiritual successor to Everybody Wants to Rule the World. I cut out a lot of content in an attempt to keep it short, but hopefully future chapters will be longer. 
> 
> Also, that summary might change. I thought of that on the spot and it low-key fits and doesn't make sense at the same time.
> 
> I'm sorry this is so long. Stay safe and healthy everyone!


	2. Mariah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sexual content (not explicit) and physical abuse within this chapter.

Besides the occasional sirens of a police cruiser and the screech of metal on metal from the nearby train station, the alleyway was desolate enough for Mariah to hear a slight echo of the irregular pants that followed every exhausted grunt the older man made. He held a tight grip on her waist to keep himself steady just in case the whiskey settled any further and threw off his balance.

Her elbows rested on the recycling bin she was bent over. She held her hands over her face, muffling each struggled breath she let out. She moved her hands from her face once the man had relieved himself. With one final thrust, he pulled himself from Mariah. She crumbled the few dollars he left on the bin in a loose grip and stowed it within her bra. She didn’t bother to count it. Regardless of how much she made, she knew it would never be enough for Devine.

She garnered what little energy she had to lift upright from the bin. She pulled her mini dress down and turned around to see an onyx luxury sedan parked at the alleyway’s entrance. The bass of a song blared through its speakers and vibrated outside of the car. The tinted windows prevented Mariah from seeing Devine’s dark eyes focused on her until she opened the passenger side door.

The car freshener that hung around the rear-view mirror, along with a golden rosary, did little to mask the stench of weed, cigarette smoke, and whiskey that lingered on Devine’s tongue. “What you got for me?” His voice was as rough as his hand when he brought it to Mariah’s chin and turned her face towards him.

If there was a single word Mariah could use to describe his eyes, it would be emotionless. His cold stare always put her on edge. Devine let go of her chin to take the few bills she retrieved from her bra. Usually he counted it, no matter how little it was, but this time he opted to grab the back of Mariah’s head and slam her face onto the dashboard. The loud music drowned out her screams for him to let go of her.

She held her hands out in a futile attempt to stop him from gripping a hand around her honey-dyed locks to have an easier time bashing his ringed fist into her face. A stinging sensation jolted through every nerve in her body. She didn’t know if her nose was broken, her lip was busted, or both, but she could feel her skin split forming fresh cuts for her blood to seep from.

“You don’t like getting hurt?” He asked after he let go of her. He watched as she brought her hands over her face, a few of her fingers were missing the dusty rose acrylic nails she had recently pressed on.

“No.” She answered in a quiet tone in between her soft whimpers. She brought her index fingers beneath her eyes to stop any more tears from rolling down her cheeks.

“Start bringin’ in some fuckin' money and I wouldn’t have to keep you line.” Devine gripped his hand around Mariah’s wrist to pull her hand from her face so he could get a better view of what he had done to her. Her full lips were stained with the blood from the minor split on her bottom lip and the blood that dripped from her nostrils, staining her warm, golden brown skin. The swelling hadn’t had time to settle in, but it was clear from the way her left eye squint right now, she would have a hard time opening it later. At least, the nicks and cuts that inflicted her skin would easily heal. He let go of her wrist and wrapped his hand around the gear stick.

* * *

Troy pulled his cigarette from in between his lips. “A matte onyx convertible zomkah with a candy paint grey trim, classic hood, metallic gold painted, custom spinner rims. I think it’s our guy.”

He slouched on a metal bus stop bench alongside Dex. They watched as a thin cloud of smoke escaped the luxury convertible’s exhaust pipe just before the car sped off down the busy streets of Rebadeaux.

Dex smirked. “Damn, didn’t know you knew so much about cars.”

“I worked on cars all my life. Made a little money for it as a mechanic in the past.” Troy said. “Anyways, that has to be Devine. No one in Rebadeaux is riding around in a nice car like that. Now that we found out where he’s hanging out, what are you trying to do?”

“Julius said you were from the Row, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you know about the Vice Kings and the Carnales?” Dex asked.

“It's been a while. Last time I was here, the Vice Kings weren't trying their hand at legitimate operations, but the Los Carnales have been selling coke in Stilwater since I was a kid.”

“The Carnales… it’s just the Carnales or Los Carnales. Los means ‘the’.” Dex corrected him.

“Dex, I don’t give two shits how you say it. Just get to the point that you’re trying to make.”

“ _The_ Carnales…” He emphasized. “…got run out of this district by the Vice Kings, but from what I’m told Devine has their product moved around here under the Kings radar and word is, the Kings are going into business with Devine to operate their sex trafficking ring.”

“He gets whacked and we’re fucking with the Los Carnales and the Vice Kings at the same time.” Troy summed up.

“The question is, how’re you gonna do it?” Dex asked.

“What do you mean, how am I gonna do it? I thought Johnny was doing the hit.”

“No.” Dex shook his head. “Johnny likes to put on a show. If he goes after Devine, he’ll make sure the whole city knows it was us who did it. Julius wants this done clean with no chance they’ll trace this back to us. So, what are you thinking?”

“I don’t know…” Troy sighed.

“Well, I’ll think of something then and I’ll get back to you about it, alright?”

“Sure.”

“Peace.” Dex lifted from the bench. He pulled his hood over his head, stuffed his hands into the denim jacket he layered over his hoodie, and left Troy on his own on the bench.

Troy raked his hand through his hair and slouched forward. He knew exactly why he had to perform the hit; Julius didn’t fully trust him. The only way to gain his trust was to spill blood. He knew what the rush that flowed through his body when he pulled a trigger felt like, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

“Lost in deep thought, I see.”

Troy lowered his hand from his head to his thigh. He kept his view focused on the cars that drove by rather than acknowledge the man that joined him on the bench. “We shouldn't be meeting out in the open like this.”

The man sighed and stroked the fingers of his free hand through his thinning, blond hair. His other hand held a cheese roll, half of which was wrapped in a blue and white striped tissue. “Two men waiting at a bus stop in the middle of the night on a busy street. Only a paranoid person would think it to be suspicious. Besides, this meeting was purely coincidental.”

“Is that so?”

“There’s a bakery around the corner, they make the best pastries in the city.” He held out the cheese roll in front of Troy. “Try a piece.”

Troy brought his gaze from the street. He glanced to his right to see the man’s cool blue eyes on him, insisting him to rip a piece of the pastry without having to say it again. “No thanks but thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” He raised the cheese roll to his parted, thin lips. The crispy layers of phyllo dough crunched in between the man’s teeth. “I’ve been reading your reports.” He said in between bites.

“Isn’t that your job?”

He ignored Troy’s snarky tone and said, “Your report significantly consists of the operation, but as your handler, I think it’s important to know of your wellbeing. That is just as important, if not more important than the operation itself.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Don’t mistake me asking how you’re doing for questioning your abilities as a detective, Troy. You’re one of the good ones, so… I want to be able to help you as much as I’m able to.”

“Maybe you can.” Troy said. “There’s a guy I need to know some information about, Devine Harris.”

“Devine…” The man drew the name out and clicked his tongue as he thought. “If I recall, he was released from Stilwater Pen not too long ago, charged with voluntary manslaughter and only served a few months.”

“How?”

“Money and a good lawyer.” He answered. “It took him to commit manslaughter to be convicted, even for a short amount of time, yet he can get away with trafficking women left and right because, apparently, we don’t have substantial evidence of it and Monroe would rather arrest the women since it’s easier. Why do you ask?”

“Julius brought him up in passing.” Troy said.

“I see.” The man said as he lifted from the bench. “Any questions you need, feel free to ask Troy. It may be my job, but I genuinely want to help you.”

“I know.” He took a deep breath and repeated himself in a whispered voice. “I know.”

* * *

She had no family. She had no friends. No one to confide in. No one to enjoy the day with. The only person she had in this city was her husband, Troy, and even then, in a strange way it felt as though he died, leaving only memories of their lives together before he began his operation. She rarely saw him, rarely spoke to him.

Kim leaned against the kitchen counter. Her well-manicured index finger tapped against the side of the round glass nearly filled to the brim with red wine, an unexceptional amount to pour in a glass, but it didn’t matter. It was the only distraction that kept her from going to the landline telephone and dialing the 31st Precinct asking for Troy’s whereabouts knowing they would tell her that he no longer worked there.

She stared at the phone. She wondered when she’d finally cave in and dial the precinct or if, by a miracle, it would ring, and Troy would be on the other end. When the phone rang, filling the silence of the house, her ears perked up and her eyes widened. She sat her glass of wine down on the counter and hurried to the living room to answer the call.

“Troy.” Her voice was low and breathy.

There was a bit of static through the line, but Kim made out the bustling sounds of cars treading over the rain-slicked road and the boisterous conversations of pedestrians walking by.

* * *

Troy pressed his finger to his ear and inched closer to the payphone. _“Troy, are you there?”_

“I can hear you now.”

_“Where are you?”_

“You already know that I can’t tell you.”

 _“Where are you?”_ She asked again.

“I’m fine, that’s all you need to know. Tell me about your day?”

 _“What?”_ She repeated with a slight chuckle.

“Tell me about your day.” Troy smirked.

 _“Well…”_ She hummed as she thought about what to say. _“I had a long day at work, but there’s nothing remarkable to talk about. I talked to my sister, Melissa, today.”_

“How is she?” Troy asked.

 _“She’s pregnant. She’s hoping this time it’ll be a girl. Third time’s the charm and all. She was wondering if she was going to get some nieces or nephews any time soon.”_ She said. _“I know we always said that it wasn’t for us, but… I think about it sometimes. Do you?”_

“Kim, I have bigger things to think about right now.” He rubbed at the lower half of his face. “Hey, I have to go I have a lot to do in the morning.”

 _“Troy, wha—"_ He pulled the phone away from his ear and hung it back on the receiver before Kim could finish.

Troy started his walk to the apartment complex where he resided. He had expected to the see the young woman he saw from his window, the same one he saw enter the matte onyx zomkah, and that he did.

* * *

Mariah raised her head at the sound of footsteps approaching the staircase and met the eyes of the man had seen many times from the alleyway she frequented. As always, there was a cigarette held loosely between his lips. His gold chain swayed each step he took and gently settled in place once he stopped before her.

“You want a smoke?” He reached into his jacket’s pocket and held out his pack of cigarettes.

“No, but thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” He stowed the pack into his pocket once more. He looked at the railing to the steps to make sure there wasn’t any gum or anything sticky before he leaned against it. “I think this is the first time I ever heard your voice.”

“What did you want?” She asked as she lifted from the step.

“What did I want?” Troy furrowed his brows. He was confused as to what she meant and the innocence of it made her cut lip curl into a small smile that contrasted against the sorrow reflected in her eyes. His expression loosened once he understood.

“I was wondering when you’d ask how much.” She smoothed her black mini dress before she sat back down on the step.

“I wasn’t going to.” The smirk on his face only lasted a second. “I did want to ask you something though.”

“Okay.”

“Why are you with him?”

She felt her heart in her throat. She didn’t have to hear Devine’s name to know that was who he referred to. Mariah lowered her eyes. “I don’t have anyone else.” She lowered her head. “You should go. He’ll be mad if he sees me talking to you.”

“You won’t have to worry about that.” Troy retrieved his light from his pants pocket. He flicked his thumb against it, sparking the small flame that flickered in the late breeze. He pushed himself from the railing and continued up the steps that led into the housing complex. “You won’t have to worry about him at all soon enough.”

“Huh…” Mariah’s eyes shot open. She quickly stood up and turned around to see Troy casually walking into the complex’s lobby with both hands stowed in his pockets. She pulled off her heels to catch up with him. “Hey! Stop!”

Troy lowered his hand from the entrance to the complex and turned around to face Mariah once more. She held her hand over her busty chest to catch her breath.

“Are you going to kill him?” She asked between breaths. The lack of his response was enough of an answer for her. She brought her hand to her forehead and smoothed her wispy bangs out of her face. “Fuck… he’s… he’s all I have.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

Mariah could feel her eyes water and didn’t bother to stop the single tear that rolled down her cheek. She didn’t know if it was a tear of joy, fear, or both. If Devine was alive, at least she had a roof over her head. With him dead, she figured she might as well be too since she had no one and nowhere to go.

* * *

Maybe it was the fact that the same songs were being rotated on the radio, but Dex and Troy felt like they had sat in Dex’s car for hours. The hot air that blew from the air vents made the pair sweat on the polyvinyl seats, but it was better than freezing in the morning rain that poured over the city. Empty chip bags and soda pop cans littered the floorboards and the dashboard. The hot air distributed the pungent smell of Troy’s freshly opened bag of chips throughout the car, but it didn’t faze either him or Dex who reached his hand into the bag for a few chips.

They were parked in the parking lot for the train station, across the street from where Devine Harris sat at a bus stop with another man. The roof over the bench that displayed several advertisements shielded the men from the rain. “I get why we’re doing this, but do we really have to?” Troy asked.

“Don’t ask me, ask Jules.” Dex picked at his tooth with the tip of his tongue.

“I did.”

“Well then don’t bitch about it.”

“Julius is preaching about how we’re doing this to protect those who can’t protect themselves, but there are people out there that are going to get fucked over if we kill this guy.” Troy handed the chips to Dex since he kept reaching over for them.

“What’s your problem, man?” The only people that are getting fucked are the Carnales and the Vice Kings.”

Troy closed the vent that blew air directly onto him. “I talked to one of his girls last night.”

“Devine’s?” Dex rolled his eyes when Troy nodded his head. “Going by your logic, if we don’t follow orders and let this guy live, you’ll be able to save her. Save her from what exactly? He lives. She’s fucked. He dies. She’s fucked. Either way, it’s not our problem.”

“I’m just saying—”

“It doesn’t matter what you’re saying. We follow a chain of command and what Julius says goes.” Salt coated Dex’s sweaty fingers when he grabbed a handful of chips. “I don’t know why I’m telling you shit you should already know.”

The music that played lowly through the speakers filled the silence between Dex and Troy as they continued to watch Devine from their position. Another hour nearly passed by the time the man Devine conversed with lifted from the bench. Dex turned his key in the ignition. He kept his foot on the brake as he put the car in reverse. “This is it.”

Troy opened the glove compartment where the .22 pistol sat on top of the vehicle’s manual and miscellaneous papers that Dex stowed in there. Troy grabbed the gun and stepped out of the car once the man began to walk away from the bus stop. He pulled the hood of his grey sweater over his head and concealed the gun within the hoodie’s large middle pocket. As he walked out onto the sidewalk, Dex backed out from his parking space and pulled out onto the street.

Troy waited for Dex to drive by before he jogged across the street. He slightly lowered his head as he walked closer towards the bus stop where Devine sat. _Breathe in. Breathe out._ He repeated the words internally as he wrapped his hand around the pistol’s handle. He only glanced at Devine for a split-second and just as quickly pulled the gun from his pocket and pulled the trigger.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Three gunshots rang out, less than a second between each one. He knew every bullet hit, but Troy didn’t have time to stay and see if they worked to get the job done. His footsteps picked up fallen rain as he sprinted down the pavement. He cut into the alleyway and picked up the pace when he saw Dex pull his car in front of the other end of the alley. Troy swung the door open, got into the car, and quickly slammed the door shut.

“C’mon, we have to get the hell out of here.” The adrenaline rushed through his veins, sending his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. “Drive Dex!”


End file.
